Friday afternoons in Republic Polytechnic always carried a different kind of air.
Lighter.
Unrushed.
As though the campus itself knew the week was ending.
Hidayah stepped out onto the Level 3 lawn from E2 building, sunlight spilling across the wide stretch of green that connected the East and West buildings. Students dotted the area in loose clusters—some seated on the grass, others standing in small circles, conversations overlapping lazily as the week wound down.
Her waterproof laptop backpack rested securely against her back, familiar weight, familiar comfort. Slung over her shoulder was her bow case, strap adjusted just right, the hard casing pressed reassuringly against her side.
Friday.
Archery day.
Her favourite.
Jasmine walked beside her, summer dress swaying gently with each step, tote bag hooked over one shoulder.
"I swear Fridays feel shorter," Jasmine said. "Like someone secretly deletes a few hours."
"That's because you don't have training," Hidayah replied.
"Excuse you, I emotionally support you through training."
"You emotionally support yourself through snacks."
Jasmine gasped. "Uncalled for."
They laughed, heading across the lawn toward the connecting walkways that branched out in different directions.
The air buzzed with end-of-week energy. Laughter drifted past. Someone's speaker played music softly in the distance. The campus felt alive, but unhurried.
"Hidayah."
Her steps slowed.
She turned.
And for a brief moment, everything else faded.
Khairul stood near the railing at the edge of the lawn.
Not in uniform.
No sharp lines. No rigid structure.
He wore jeans, a navy blue collared t-shirt, sleeves rolled casually to his forearms, and brown leather boots that looked well-used, comfortable. Civilian clothes—but the way he stood still carried quiet discipline.
Straight-backed.
Alert.
Calm.
She hadn't imagined him.
"Hi," she said.
His expression softened into an easy smile. "Hi."
Jasmine slowed almost immediately, eyes flicking between them. Recognition clicked fast.
Oh.
"I wasn't sure I'd catch you," Khairul said. "But I hoped I might today. It's Friday, and I assumed you'd have archery."
Hidayah lifted her brows slightly. "You assumed correctly."
"I'm glad."
There was something intentional in the way he said it—honest, unforced.
"This is Jasmine," Hidayah said.
"We've met," Jasmine said cheerfully. "You're the army guy."
Khairul chuckled. "That's me."
Jasmine checked her phone, then adjusted the strap of her tote bag.
"I've got choir," she said. "Fridays always run long."
She turned to Hidayah. "See you later?"
"Yeah," Hidayah replied. "Text me when you're done."
Jasmine waved lightly at Khairul. "Nice seeing you again."
Then she headed off toward W1, footsteps carrying her away from the lawn.
The space around them felt quieter after she left.
Not empty.
Just… focused.
"You're heading for training now?" Khairul asked, nodding toward the bow case.
"Yes. Fridays."
"You carry that like it's part of you."
"It kind of is."
He nodded. "I thought so. You didn't even panic when it fell last week."
"I trust my equipment."
"And yourself."
She smiled faintly. "That too."
They began walking slowly across the lawn, neither of them in a rush.
"I really am glad it wasn't damaged," Khairul said. "I meant that."
"I know."
He hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Do you usually go home straight after training?"
"Most Fridays."
"Long day."
"Worth it."
Their steps slowed as the conversation settled into something comfortable.
"Can I ask something?" he said.
She nodded.
"Where do you stay?"
"Yishun."
His expression shifted—surprise flickering briefly before interest took its place.
"Seriously?"
"Yes."
"I stay in Yishun too."
She stopped walking and turned to him.
"Really?"
He nodded. "Near the park."
Her eyes widened slightly. "Oh? Which side?"
"600+"
"Ah… mine's 300+"
Something subtle but undeniable settled between them.
"Small world," she murmured.
"Singapore's small," he replied.
They shared a quiet smile.
"I usually jog at Yishun Park on my off days," Khairul added more casually now. "Early mornings. Sometimes evenings."
"I've seen people jogging there," she said slowly.
"Maybe you've seen me."
"Maybe."
Their eyes met, held for a heartbeat longer than necessary.
"Hidayah!"
Arnold's voice called out from near the sports hall entrance.
He waved when she looked over.
She lifted a hand in response.
"I should go," she said.
Khairul nodded. "Can I walk you part of the way?"
"Yes."
They walked toward the sports hall together.
"About last week," Khairul said quietly. "I didn't step in because I thought you couldn't handle it."
"I know."
"I stepped in because you shouldn't have to."
That distinction mattered.
She felt it.
They stopped near the entrance. The sounds of training echoed faintly from inside.
Khairul hesitated, then reached into his pocket.
"Before you go," he said, pulling out his phone, "can I have your number?"
She didn't hesitate.
"Sure."
They exchanged phones, fingers brushing briefly as they typed.
A small thing.
Not insignificant.
"I'll text you," he said.
"I'll look out for it."
His smile deepened slightly. "Good luck and have fun with your training."
"Thank you."
As Hidayah turned and walked towards the sports hall, she felt it again.
That shift.
Not excitement.
Not infatuation.
Something steadier.
Something safe.
From the far side of the lawn, Michael watched.
He hadn't planned to stop.
Hadn't meant to look.
But he saw her standing there.
Saw the way she smiled.
Saw the way she listened.
Saw the way she handed her phone over without hesitation.
His jaw tightened.
Hands curling at his sides.
That man stood too close.
Spoke too easily.
And Hidayah didn't pull away.
Michael turned sharply and walked off.
A bitter thought settling deep in his chest.
For the first time—
He felt it.
Not possession.
Not loss.
But something worse.
Being replaced.
Behind them, the sun dipped lower over the lawn, shadows stretching long across the grass. And somewhere between familiar ground and a single exchanged number—
Hidayah stepped further away from an ending she had already lived once before.